grass stained dress
bare legs of dry blood and stitch.
i’ve worked my lifetime to get here,
wrung towels dry and scaled the Himalayas.
set ablaze to scarecrows in the field,
no longer afraid to share my harvest.
so i won’t ride with you in this boxcar set for Chelmno
diving shallow waters
that offer little intrigue.
it shant work that i am me
and only one of us knows that that is truly splendid.